If These Walls Could Talk
by SerenNoir
Summary: After the death of the Uchiha family, Minato Namikaze adopts Sasuke as his own to raise alongside his own son. In comparison, Naruto is a cake walk. Single fatherhood is hard enough without the responsibilities of Hokage added to it, but together they will weather any storm. Parallel Konoha timeline.
1. Chapter 1

**If These Walls Could Talk**

 **Author's Note: This entire story has been taken down and completely rewritten. The things that tempted me as a child no longer apply as an adult. Those who have the original saved somewhere please know and understand I do not condone the relationship I originally set up. I still think the message I intended behind this story is important, so I'm giving it another shot.**

* * *

The first time I met Sasuke Uchiha he was four years old. He had come skidding into the dining room as naked as the day he was born with his mother close on his heels. In one hand she held his clothes and the other clutched a yellow comb shaped like a rubber bath duck. By the way my own four year old, Naruto, stared longingly after him - and his apparent free reign of the house - I knew from that moment on it was the beginning of a long and tedious friendship.

I turned to the boy's father, Fugaku, who simply downed his scalding mug of sake in one gulp and smiled sheepishly. My good friend was known to be down-to-earth, but even he could not have imagined his child would come screaming through like a Hell-hound, mooning us as he went.

The Uchihas were a well-off family. Not as wealthy as the Hyuuga's, mind you, but still saw a lot more income coming in than I did before I became the Yondaime Hokage. This took place eleven years ago…before the Uchiha massacre. Sasuke and Naruto were only eight at the time.

I can still remember waking up in the dead of night to the sound of someone sobbing heavily at my front door.

Stumbling around Naruto's game system and amidst a few quiet curses, I make it to the front door and throw back the lock. I am completely taken by surprise to see Sasuke bawling his eyes out on my welcome mat. I react immediately, bending and scooping his light frame into my arms and cradling him against my bare chest. I'm disoriented and scared. I slide down against the wall and hold him against me as he gasps and screams, lungs fighting for a breath.

I thank the gods my son is a hard sleeper because I don't think I could have handled them both in that moment. I smooth Sasuke's wind-blown hair, bangs damp with tears and snot, and rock my upper body back and forth. Hopefully it has the same effect on him as it does to Naruto. Eventually his heaves subside to small, shuddering cries.

"What happened?" That is just it. Sasuke never cries unless he is injured badly, or something terribly wrong has happened.

His words are shaky as his brother's name leaves his lips in a hysteric mantra. My body becomes rigid as stone as he stutters out the next word. I hold him tighter as I stand and dart to my kitchen where the phone is. I punch in a few numbers hurriedly, quietly cursing when my shaky fingers nearly drop it. It rings three times before I hear my former student's groggy voice from the other end.

"Ahh, Minato, what is it? It's three in the…"

"Wake the other jounin and get over to the Uchiha compound. Something's wrong," I cut him off, my voice transforming into his Hokage.

Kakashi's voice drops a decibel as he whispers into the phone, "What's going on?"

"I don't know," I reply heavily, "but I have Sasuke here with me." I hold him tighter to my chest when he wails harder at the mention of his home.

"Aa."

The line goes silent, and I let the phone drop to the countertop. The loud noise brings forth a fresh wave of tears from Sasuke. I'm forced to set him down in the counter next to the phone in order to rummage through the votive near me for a tea bag, all while keeping a reassuring hand on his leg. I flip a switch on the stove to heat up the water kettle and open another drawer to get a clean dishrag.

Wetting it warm water from the faucet, I wipe Sasuke's face. His eyes scrunch shut as I brush over them gently. "Do you want to talk about it," I question after a few moments before dropping the tea bag into the whistling kettle.

His eyes drop to his knees, and he balls his fists into his lap. I take that as an immediate and resolute "no". I hand him a cup of the tea, and he eyes it suspiciously before taking a sip. The only sounds in the small kitchen are the methodical ticking of the wall clock and the sniffling hiccups still coming out of Sasuke.

I run my palm over my face realizing how truly tired I am. Sasuke hops from the counter, his bare feet making near-silent noises, and places the empty mug on the table. He stands there awkwardly, unsure of what to do next, and altogether avoiding eye contact.

"Do you want to sleep in my bed with me?" I ask, thinking he might calm down some more if someone stayed with him.

He shakes his eyes and wordlessly pads down the dark hallway. I'm not surprised in the slightest when he stops in front of Naruto's door. Smiling softly down at him, I open the door and watch as he tiptoes to my son's side and lifts the covers. Naruto's eyes blink open sleepily, impervious to sound, but aware of the slightest physical change in the environment. He lets out a muffled groan and flops an arm out to pat Sasuke with.

"What are you doing here?" he mumbles sleepily but scoots over in the bed anyways to allow Sasuke to slide in next to him.

The Uchiha buries his face into Naruto's side, his shoulders slumping forward with exhaustion and defeat. "I had a bad dream."

I close the door softly behind me and stumble into the laundry room where I had laid my clean uniform the night before. I slip into the pants, shirt, and vest in record time before making my way back to the kitchen. I punch in Shikaku Nara's number hoping his wife will pick up the phone. To my immense relief, her brash voice sounds from the other end.

"Minato, what is going on?! Shikaku stormed out of bed and out the door like a bat out of Hell!" Yoshino is shouting into the phone, and I place my hand over the earpiece to protect my eardrum.

"I'm about to go and find out. I was hoping you could come over and watch the boys."

I hear the dial tone shortly after, so I assume she's on her way, and I place the phone back on the cradle. My nerves are shot as I wait for her to show up and when she finally does, a sleepy Shikamaru in tow, I mumble out a hurried thank you and body flicker myself out of my living room.

The air is cool outside, and the strong gusts of wind actually make me shiver. Though that could be the sense of foreboding that has settled deep in my gut. The Uchiha compound materializes in front of me and already it's mayhem. There are dozens of shinobi rushing back and forth. Every ten feet or so there's a bloody body covered with a white sheet. I emit a long, shuddering breath as my eyes rove the sight before me.

I have seen death many times in my life. Yet this, _this,_ shakes me to my core. A ninja skids to a stop in front of me, and I recognize the silver hair instantly.

"What happened here?" I croak out, annoyed that my voice can't be steadier.

"They're dead, sir. All of them," Kakashi pants out, wiping a bead of sweat from beneath his visible eye.

"Where's Itachi?" My throat is bone-dry, and it feels like my tongue has swelled inside my mouth. I know the answer without having to ask.

"He's not here. It's like he's just vanished."

A cold trickle of sweat skitters down my spine, and I swallow thickly. The wreckage of the compound and the bodies mingle before my wavering vision. "Sasuke's right," I whisper, "this is all just a bad dream."


	2. Chapter 2

**If These Walls Could Talk**

 **Chapter Two**

 **Warnings: self-harm**

* * *

 _((Present Day))_

In all my thirty-nine years, I have never wanted to kill a person more in my entire life than how I do right now. This situation is only topped by the missing nin that I held responsible for my student's death. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Hell hath no fury than a Minato missing out precious minutes of slumber.

All I know is that while lying face-down in my unbelievably comfortable bed, trying to squeeze out the last few minutes of shut-eye, there is a constant thudding noise coming from the bedroom next to me.

Groggily, I roll from the warmth of my sheets and plod to the door. My nails scratch lightly at the blonde hair on my lower stomach sleepily. Naruto's door is cracked, and I push it open slowly. One of these days I'm going to barge in investigating one of his many curious, annoying noises and a naked girl will be found crammed up against his headboard. I don't want to sit through that terrifying experience later with Naruto. I make a mental note to knock even though it's my house, and I pay all the bills.

Fortunately, Naruto is alone in the room, lying on top of his sheets in his customary orange and black jumpsuit. It's seven in the morning. Does he wear it to sleep? Goddamn weirdo. I watch, mutely, as he tosses his pillow up into the ceiling fan and lets it shoot across the room and smack against the wall with a dull thud. He then reels it back with what looks like fishing wire tied to the corner of the pillow and repeats the process.

This is my kid.

"Uh…what are you doing?" I ask with a low cough, and his startled blue eyes dart to my face. He grins sheepishly and hugs the pillow to his chest on its next return.

"Just waiting for you to get up," he replies, swinging his body over the edge of the bed and rolling onto the balls of his feet with an energy no human should possess at this time of the morning. I roll my eyes into the top of my skull and resign myself to fixing breakfast. There's no way I will be able to get back to sleep now.

I take a box of cereal down from the cabinet and the milk from the fridge and plunk it down in the middle of the bar. Naruto's face falls in dejection. He receives one back that translates into "You're fifteen years old and fully capable of making a bowl of cereal".

I flip the switch on the coffee pot. It's grounds from the morning before, but I don't care. I lie my bare chest against the cool bar countertop, my lower body dangling. Naruto taps his spoon on my head, and I manage to groggily swat at it.

"Sasuke sent me a carrier pigeon earlier. He wanted to know if he could stay over," Naruto mumbles around a mouthful of Lucky Charms.

"Well, he lives here, don't he?"

Naruto deciphers my response from having mumbled it into the granite. "Yeah, well, he still asked."

I breathe slowly in and out my nose. Sasuke has lived with us since he was eight years old, but it's hard trying to convince him he doesn't have to stay alone in the empty Uchiha compound for half the week. Once Thursday hits, _anniversary day,_ he comes crawling back for companionship and support for the weekend. He's done this for seven years.

It's heartbreaking every week it happens. I try to be understanding, but one day he will just quit coming. He will be grown and resign himself to the fact that the demons will now haunt him alone. I can already see it happening. The charming, endearing little boy I met is growing into a cynical, emotionless teenager.

It's my fault. I should have done more to get him help after the massacre. I was cocky that Naruto and I could be his stand-in therapists. Sometimes love is not enough.

I leave the room to allow Naruto to finish his breakfast without seeing the depression I always had trouble keeping off my face. I'm digging through my dresser for a clean outfit when I sense my son's presence enter the room.

"So, can he stay over? He's waiting for my answer."

I slam the drawer shut with more force than necessary and fix my son with a blank stare. "What do you think?"

He shuffles his feet nervously along the floor and we exchange a moment of silence, remembering the loss of something whole and pure that has been replaced with something cracked and dark.

We were Sasuke's _sometimes_ when he was our _all the time._

"Of course," I murmur quietly and pass him to take a shower. Naruto mumbles his thanks and disappears back into the living room. His bright, blue eyes look a bit glassy.I lock the bathroom door behind me and suck in quick, shallow breaths. The pain of knowing I was losing one of my sons, in more ways than one, cuts deeply. Try as I might, I feel helpless to stop it.

I was never cut out for children, but Fate had other plans for me. I can still remember the feeling of startled, but happy, surprise when Kushina told me she was pregnant with Naruto. At the time, I never imagined it would have been this hard, or that I would have to raise him alone.

Shortly after Kushina's death, I sent Naruto away for a few weeks to stay with Tsunade. I was too depressed and angry to care for him as I knew I should. It took a while for me to forgive myself. Forgive Naruto. Those first days after he was born, I found myself gazing at him with bitter resentment. If she would have never gotten pregnant with him, she wouldn't have died giving birth to him.

Those feelings changed almost instantly as I held him in my arms after he returned to me. His peaceful, smushed face snoozed against me, and he let out the quietest newborn toot. In that moment, I knew he was my son, and I was doing Kushina's memory a disservice by not caring for him as she would have. It was never his fault.

Fifteen years later, I was still very much alone and raising not one, but two, hotheaded teenagers. Naruto is hard. Sasuke is harder.

After the massacre, I wordlessly stepped up and took on the role of his surrogate father. The young Uchiha adamantly insisted he could live alone at eight years old, and I allowed that. However, I still played a large role in his upbringing. He spent more time at my house than his own during the days.

Lately, despite mine and Naruto's efforts, Sasuke is drifting further away. He hardly speaks anymore, and when he does grace our ears with his words, they're usually cynical and leave no room for argument.

It's disconcerting because I want to be there for him; I don't know how. No one wrote a book on how to deal with an emotionally crippled teenage boys. I'm in the dark fighting against his invisible monster that I cannot see, cannot hear, and cannot speak to.

These thoughts plague me the entirety of my shower and zaps away the relaxation the steaming water offers me. When I emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed, I notice Naruto has already left a note in his place. He's gone to train with Kiba followed with lunch with Team Seven.

Here I thought I was going to have company on my brief walk to the Hokage Tower where a colossal amount of paperwork piled up will greet me. Tch, teenagers. Selfish heathens.

* * *

Needless to say, I end up not getting to any of the paperwork because a urgent message is waiting for me on my desk. As soon as I read the name on the scroll, I'm out the door abandoning my Hokage robe behind me. I knew exactly where he would be and wasted no time in getting there.

His small frame is standing on the edge of the terrace near the Hokage faces where the wind whips his hair relentlessly around his face. Even from this distance, I can see this lapse is worse than before. The blood drips dark and steady from his pale wrist onto the ground beneath him.

Thank god someone had spotted him coming up here.

He senses my presence and goes rigid. I deftly pull the kunai from his hands and let it clatter loudly to the ground. I wrap both my hands around his slender wrists. My fingers overlap much more than they should; he is so wispy. He forgets to eat. My fingers smear against the blood, but I grip tightly. The pressure will help, but more importantly it'll ground him to the present. He turns his face into my chest and leans into my vest.

"My boy," I whisper soothingly.

His body shakes. I know he's not crying. He won't allow himself that.


	3. Chapter 3

**If These Walls Could Talk**

 **Chapter Three**

 **Author's Note: This is a disclaimer that says I love Naruto's character-every aspect. Anon confused this fic with another one not written by me. If I wrote him to be a villain, you would know it.**

* * *

There's not much I can do for Sasuke's wrists until we get back to my apartment. There's no telling how much blood he's lost before I got here, so allowing him to walk back is out of the picture. I hear him suck in nervous air as the heady rush that comes with body flickering fills me.

Unlike Naruto, Sasukes hates to flicker, and we've only done it twice before now. Though I suppose that isn't saying much as Naruto is apt to like most things that he thinks could be dangerous or defy the law of physics.

Sasuke is still clinging to me when I'm greeting with the comforting cinnamon-apple odor of my home - a memoir left behind from the previous tenants. I tap him on the head for him to let go. He jumps back, dark eyes cutting at me. Perturbed. I know he's thinking he's too old for me to keep treating him like a child. His hands are shaking, and he tries to hide the motion by flexing his fingers. He's trying so hard to keep it together and not crumble to pieces. This boy's pride is the only thing keeping him alive sometimes.

I lead him by the elbow into the bathroom where he hoists himself up on the counter, a blank glare on his features. I wordlessly pull some peroxide and gauze from beneath the sink and make a move to grab one of his arms. He yanks it away immediately.

"I can do it," he mumbles, turning his body so that one wrist hovers over the sink. The cuts have clotted over, but they still need to be cleaned and wrapped. He lies the unrolled gauze on one thigh and slowly pours the peroxide over the wounds. Despite himself, a sharp hiss escapes from between his clenched lips, but he continues robotically dabbing at the dried blood.

There's a pack of cigarettes and lighter where I've hid them behind the toilet. I've told myself I was going to quit smoking. However, this situation calls for tobacco. I fish one out of the package and light it.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" I question hesitantly, backing up till my shoulders hit the opposite wall. I take a long drag on the cigarette. "You know you can come to me when you...feel this way. Or to Naruto."

Sasuke's gaze snaps up to meet mine, and I exhale my fumes into the air; that infamous glare has never worked on me. He bristles when he doesn't get a rise out of me.

"I tried running this morning. It wasn't working." He's attempting to wrap the gauze around his wrist one-handed and it's not going well. He gives up with a frustrated huff.

I push away from the wall and grab onto the tangled wrapping before he has a change to fling it into the trashcan. He stills for me as I tie off the end around his arm, trying not to ash on his pants leg. This close to him I can smell the dark, earthen scent of boy-sweat. I don't doubt he was training earlier; he probably ran at least ten miles.

He makes a pained sound in his throat when my arm accidentally brushes against his ribcage. I draw my eyes up to his wide ones, suspicious. Before he can form a decent protest or excuse, I lift the edge of his tunic up to his neck. My body tenses, and I bite back a curse as I catch sight of the myriad of purple and yellow hues across his pale skin. These are not bruises he received in training.

"Do you want me to wrap your ribs, too?" I'm trying not to twist his shirt nervously in my hands. This is new. Sasuke has never intentionally hurt himself this way before.

Sasuke's hands come down around my own, stilling my movements. He shakes his head and straightens his tunic. I'm further surprised when he leans forward and embraces me around the neck where he can press his hot face into the crook of my neck.

I held him like this when he was little.

As I tighten my hold around him, I feel like crying out. I'm losing him more and more every day. I thought we had been lucky to have not had a lapse in so long. Turns out he was just hiding it better. He never does this for attention, or to die, but there is something in Sasuke that feels powerless and seeks control. Something that grips him by the throat and demands he take control of the small things that he can in his life.

His lips tremble against my collarbone. Not crying but speaking quietly. A torrent of apologies of putting Naruto and I through this. Everything will get better once he finds Itachi and kills him. I've heard it before. All of it.

My biggest fear is not that he might face Itachi, but that he might not even allow himself to live long enough to see it happen.

He pulls himself from me very abruptly and jumps down from the bathroom counter. Try as he might, he cannot help but sway on his feet. He has lost too much blood. I help by throwing one of his arms over my shoulder and physically walk him down the hall towards his bedroom. The entire reason I moved into this house several years ago was that he could have his own space and not have to share a room with Naruto.

His weight is barely tangible against me; he's far too light for a teenage boy. A stark contrast to Naruto who is nothing if not a brick shithouse in comparison. I deposit him on the bed where he looks up at me, annoyed. I push a firm hand down on his chest when he tries to raise back up. He glares at me from behind dark eyelashes but sinks down into the pillows anyway.

"I think you should sleep some," I mutter, absentmindedly observing the window across the room. Would he try to bust out as soon as I left? An argument forms on his lips, but he shuts his mouth on it and kicks off his sandals. They land heavily on the wooden floor at the end of the bed.

As I turn to leave, I feel his hand on my elbow stopping me. "Stay," he says.

I want to tell him I have work to do – that the job of a Hokage doesn't end even during family crises. He would not appreciate the sentiment that I would be babysitting him. I heave a small sigh and sink down to the floor and rest the back of my head against his mattress.

He rolls onto his side facing me. It's not long before I feel his fingers twist the hair at the nape of my neck. He didn't start this action with me – it's a subconscious habit he picked up long ago to help soothe him to sleep. Maybe it started with his mother, Mikoto, when he was just a baby.

He does it with Naruto too, when he can. I complain a lot less about the knots he winds into my hair. I've heard people say a person's eyes are the gateways to their soul, but when I glance back Sasuke's are unfathomable to read through the small slit in his eyelashes.

"You smell like smoke," he comments quietly, lowering his gaze and allowing his eyelids to fall shut completely.

"You smell like a wet puppy," I counter. A small grin plays on his lips before they fall slack. He drifts asleep faster than anyone I know. His vulnerability is something he only allows privately around me and Naruto. No one else knows Sasuke this way.

I sit there for a while and listen to the clock chime in the other room. When I feel Sasuke is asleep for sure, I quietly stand and leave. I crack his door just in case he needs me. It's so hard to treat my sons like they're not children anymore.

I may not be able to return to work today, but at the very least I can finish off that carton of cigarettes.


	4. Chapter 4

**If These Walls Could Talk**

 **Chapter 4**

* * *

I'm well into a two-hour investment of my soap operas one Saturday afternoon when the door flies open with a loud bang. It startles me enough that I reach for the hidden kunai in the couch cushions. Except it's just Naruto with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. I pause to ponder the ability that Kushina and I had to create the literal personification of a golden retriever.

"Dad! Dad! Guess what?! I'm going on a date with a GIRL!"

I feel my mouth begin to creep open in bewilderment. Gods, I love him, but what kind of stupid teenage girl would say yes?

Sasuke comes through the doorframe next and even from the couch I can see his eyes roll. "It's just Sakura. Don't let him fool you." I told him to stop rolling his eyes like that; they were going to get stuck.

Naruto's neck splotches red in response. "That's beside the point, asshole! I asked if she wanted to go to Hanabi's birthday party tonight, and she said yes. By definition, that makes it a date."

"Yeah, if you're a fucking loser," Sasuke retorts.

"Hey now, watch your goddamn language boys," I interrupt. "Whose birthday? Where?" I can never remember if Hanabi is the loud or the quiet Hyuuga.

"They convinced Nara into using his parent's land for a bonfire," Sasuke explains, clearly the only one listening to me as Naruto continues to victory dance in the middle of the living room.

"And you're going?" Sasuke is just in the beginnings of a head shake no when Naruto latches onto him like an oversized, tan leech.

"Of course you're coming. You can be my brooding buffer. And I need to practice what I'll say to Sakura tonight." He dashes off to his bedroom presumably to get ready.

I turn to Sasuke once they're gone only to find him glaring daggers in my direction. I smile sheepishly, running my fingers through the hair at my nape awkwardly. I obviously missed a very big clue.

"You weren't going to jump to my rescue?" he asks sullenly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It'll be good for you; you need to be around other people. Besides I need a night to air out that dungeon you call a bedroom." I mean this as a joke, I swear. Instead, it creates the opposite reaction of what I'm expecting.

"Guess I'm not good at much of anything, am I?" He stalks off, mid-tantrum, but his words are what unsettles me. Sasuke tries so hard to excel at what he knows he's good at. His comment is something more than a pouty, teenage remark. It opened a window to the soul of his self-esteem. There, it's ugly. Broken. The slam of his bedroom door rings out in the silence that follows.

I numbly enter the kitchen with the intent of fixing some tea as an apology. Sasuke is a ticking time bomb a lot of the time; I always have to be careful with my words. I can joke around with Naruto, and he'll give back as good as he gets. Sasuke is too…sensitive.

The water reaches a boil, and I place tea bags into the two mugs to steep. I jump slightly when I notice Sasuke in the doorway. One hand clutches the back of his neck, and the other grips the doorframe so hard his knuckles have turned white. The deep slashes on his wrists have healed to scabs by this point, but they still serve as a reminder that his life can be so fleeting.

"Naruto just left. He was mad when I said I wasn't going."

"He'll get over it, but you should try to go next time." I want to admonish him. I want to tell him it's not too late to catch up with Naruto. I don't. I have to validate what he feels -however quick-changing it might be.

"Minato—I have a favor to ask," he mumbles, casting his eyes up at the ceiling so he doesn't have to look at me. I lean back on my elbows and nod. He takes a deep breath, exhaling it slowly, and allows his feet to shuffle nervously at the tile floor beneath them.

"Well…" I urge, waving my arm in the hopes it would get him to spit what he needs to say out.

"Would you agree that I'm worthless?"

He says it so fast that, at first, I don't quite understand. When I decipher it, my eyes widen, and a frown pulls at the corners of my mouth. "Why would I agree to something stupid like that?" I question like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world and, in truth, it might as well be.

"Minato!" he snaps, impatient.

"Okay, okay." I back down, lifting my hands in a show of peace. "You're worthless. You're the most worthless shinobi I've ever met."

He cuts his eyes at me and then back at the ceiling quickly. "You didn't say it right. Tell me and mean it."

Such a brat. What is the point of this stupid game? I stare across the room at him, wishing he could look me in the face so I could see what he's really getting at. Why in the hell would he want me to call him worthless?

Surely…he doesn't feel like that, does he? Christ, what if this is just another way to hurt himself? It's not physical, but it has the potential to cut just as deep. "I'm not going to say that," I begin quietly. His eyes snap to mine angrily, eyes spinning red with his Sharingan, but I power through. "I'm not going to lie to you and say something I don't mean."

His emotions are so volatile in that moment that I can feel the tension cutting between us. Would he go so far as to use the Sharingan on me? Sometimes Naruto, with the actual fox demon inside him, is more stable than Sasuke when it comes to anger management.

Thankfully, all he does is stalk towards me and swipe hard at my stomach with his fist. In the next moment, he's wrapping his arms around my midsection and pressing up close against me in an embrace. I know he's sorry for taking his frustration out on me; it's not the first time. I'm pushed back until I feel the edge of the counter, and a sharp pain shoots up my spine.

"Why can't you do something this simple?" he mutters heatedly. His fingers curl sharply; they pinch the thin skin of my lower back.

I forcefully pry his fingers from me and hold him at arm's length, staring him down without a hint of teasing in my eyes. "Listen here, you ornery brat. You aren't worthless to me."

His eyes cloud over with some unnamed emotion I couldn't begin to describe. He jerks away pitifully, rushing from the kitchen with the harsh slam of the door behind him. I should follow him. Any good parent wouldn't let their child go through such internal conflict alone.

I stare down at our tea which has now become too bitter and tepid to drink. _I'm not good at this._

The floorboards in the hallway creak under my feet as I make my way towards Naruto's open bedroom door. A flash of blue is curled up on the otherwise strikingly orange bed. I step into the dim room. Sasuke looks much younger than almost sixteen with the way he is curled up. It causes my stomach to clench painfully.

I sit on the edge of the bed and wrap an arm around his midsection and pull him up against my leg. He moves easily, limp as a rag-doll. He grunts lowly and swats at my hands in a piss-poor attempt for me to leave him alone. "Why won't you talk to us?"

There's a pause and Sasuke sighs loudly in the room. It sounds so exasperated and so much like Sasuke I can't help but snort laughter. "I did," he admonishes childishly.

"Forcing me to tell you that you're worthless is not what I meant."

"I don't…I don't know what to do with all this," he murmurs lowly, placing a hand against his chest. "Sometimes it just seems to block everything out."

This is the most he's ever alluded to the depression he feels inside of him, and it breaks me. I feel hot tears blur my eyesight. "Alright, tell me why you think you're not worth anything to anyone. To us." My voice catches.

Without missing a beat, I hear his reply. "Next question."

"Stubborn fucking Uchihas. Okay, so why is Naruto's room the first place you come to when you're upset?"

There is silence from him, but I wait patiently because he is about to admit something I'm likely never allowed to speak of in front of or to Naruto.

"Everything smells like him in here. I guess it calms me down more if I'm around things that are his."

I laugh out loud this time. "Seriously? It smells like wet, dirty socks in here. How is this comforting?!"

He sniffs the air a second before turning his head to smirk back at me. "You're right, it does stink. I hate it in here."

I chuckle and swing myself off the bed. "Okay since you're deadset on not getting drunk in a field somewhere, I'm ordering out. What do you want to eat? And please don't say ramen." One of my damn kids has to have an aversion to the stuff; I'm going to die of sodium poisoning before I make it to 60.

"Sashimi and rice." As if it's the most obvious thing in the world. He slides out of bed and passes me on the way out of the bedroom. His face has more color, and his eyes look a little livelier than they did moments ago.

Sashimi and rice, it is.

"Let's watch a horror, too," Sasuke calls from the living room. I can hear him digging around in my extensive movie collection like he hasn't seen each and every one before.

Somehow, I've successfully beat back the monster this time. Would I be as lucky the next? He's crouched over several options laid out on the floor in front of him. He seems to almost be excited to be spending a boring night in with me. A rush of guilt passes through me. Maybe I'm not giving him enough time outside of work? Maybe I need to focus a little more on our bond instead of all three of us? Perhaps I need to sincerely try to help my son – by getting him the right kind of counsel.

My denial has gone on for too long. The only way I can help Sasuke now is to make sure Naruto and I are not his only resource. He will fight it and vehemently cuss me for involving other people.

As the light from the television reflects the dark hollows beneath his eyes, I know that he's worth it. His life and well-being are worth every moment of mine he hates me for.


	5. Chapter 5

**If These Walls Could Talk**

 **Chapter 5**

* * *

Three horror films later and the clock dangerously nearing four in the morning, I'm about wiped out. I'm sprawled out across the sofa and reminiscing about my younger days when I could stay up for thirty-six hours without any problem. Now my kids could run laps around me.

Sasuke is on the floor in front of me, curled up with his head resting on his bent arm. He seems enthralled with the gory action depicted on the screen while the bloody mess is causing the rice I've eaten to churn uncomfortably in my stomach. I feel almost relieved when I hear the front door slam and a body crash into the coat rack in the hallway. Ah, my other kid is home safely, and now I can retire to my soft bed.

Naruto drunkenly rounds the entry, sloppy grin and glaze-eyed. His clothes reek of cheap liquor and wet moss, and I feel a pang of nostalgia for my own adolescence. The best I can hope for a drunken night out is with Asuma and Kakashi at the springs. We're actually not allowed back for the rest of the cool season…

He staggers to the middle of the living room and falls heavily onto Sasuke, smothering him with his larger body. "Ey Sasuke, you shoulda came to the party. It was sooo cool, dude," he slurs, tangling his fingers into Sasuke's dark hair and shaking his head back and forth.

"Ugh, get off me loser," Sasuke mumbles, using his feet to push the inebriated teen off him. I catch the small look of mirth in his smile. He enjoys Naruto annoying him.

Naruto makes his way to me next, but I push a socked foot to his chest and hold him at bay. "Cold, sobering shower. Now," I command in my no-nonsense Father-voice.

He opens his mouth briefly before admitting defeat and sheepishly stumbles off down the hallway. I wait till I hear the shower before I glance over at Sasuke. His eyelids are drooping with the telltale signs of fatigue and his fingers tug sleepily at the fringe on the rug as substitution for the hair he can't find.

Sighing softly, I bend and pull him up by his hand. He teeters once on his feet before I catch him around the midsection. "Whoa, careful. Where to?"

His eyelids flutter twice, and his voice is lethargic when he speaks. "Mine…yours…not Naruto…too drunk."

I chuckle softly to myself at his incoherency and lead him down the hallway to my room. He pulls off his shirt before crawling into my king bed and commandeering both of my pillows. I'd bet money he was asleep before his head touched them. I hear the shower shut off in the next room followed by a slurred "Night, Dad".

The quietness of the house sobers me into a fitful awake-ness. Although everything is finally at peace without my interference, I feel lost in that moment. Sasuke's breathing is even and slow in his sleep as I back out of the room. I wander back into the living room and shut off the television, allowing myself to be plunged into darkness. A warm rush of tears fill my lower lid and they make soft, plinking noises where they hit the empty cardboard rice boxes I carry to the trash. I take my time cleaning up the kitchen, allowing muscle memory to guide me in the pitch black. Through it all, I cry soundlessly for a reason I can't really name. I'm doing the best I can. I'm not doing enough. I miss Kushina.

I wipe a hand across my eyes and strip down to my boxers in the laundry room. There's a pair of flannel pants that aren't too dirty that I slip on before padding softly back to my bedroom. I may not have a pillow but damn it, I am going to at least get some of the blanket before Sasuke rolls himself up fully in it.

The blinds are open—the gray wash of moonlight surprising. The pallor of Sasuke's skin is almost translucent, and I find the inky black of his eyes tracking me across the room. "I woke up, and you weren't here." Even so, he scoots over to allow me room to slide in next to him.

"I had to clean up the food," I explain. The sheets are warm where his body had lain.

He lies in the dark, facing me, and I can tell there's something plaguing his mind. Any moment now he's going to roll back over and sigh gently, allowing his pride to think for him once more. I place a finger under his chin and force him to look at me before he can get that chance.

"What?" he questions, pushing my hand away from his face.

"It looked like you were thinking awfully hard about something. Care to share?"

His fingers worry away at the hem of the pillowcase before he sighs deeply. "I was just thinking about what you said earlier. You said I was worth something to you. But would you still have respect for me?" He props an arm behind his head and finally breaks his gaze from mine.

"After?"

"After I killed Itachi." His eyes are like twin black wells and something knots in my gut. He doesn't know how much it hurts me when he brings his brother up. Exacting his revenge is not going to fix his problems, but I can't be the one to convince him of that. I reach forward to muss his bangs, not even flinching back when his gaze becomes calculating.

"Sasuke, you're mine as much as Naruto is. Itachi had a poison in him that grew until he couldn't control it anymore. If I could help you find your brother, I would." I sigh heavily, unsure how to phrase what I need to say next. "Killing him isn't going to bring your family back. I hope that you can come to find a new family in Naruto and myself."

His breath leaves his chest in a slow exhale before he brings his arms up to his face. From the way the moon shines through the window, Sasuke's scars are a pale pink. A reminder that there is a pain that I cannot fix, but someone might. His shoulders begin to tremble, and I catch the glinting moisture slip down each cheek.

Some day Sasuke won't be able to hold back the emotion he keeps at bay and that dam is going to break free. That day is going to be bad. For now, I act on what parental instinct I carry by pulling him toward me to wrap in my arms. "I love you, my boy. I'm making an appointment tomorrow with someone you can talk to."

Immediately, as predicted, Sasuke stiffens and pushes away from my chest. "What?" he states, flatly.

"I think you need to speak with someone. I am not enough sometimes."

His brow draws together in anger, and I can see his cheeks heat. "Were you going to ask me first?" He takes what few seconds I need to gather my argument to continue. "I don't need to talk to someone. I'm not _crazy._ You think I'm crazy! I'm not going to go."

"You are going to go," I reply, tamping down what anger I feel rising up from having my authority as a father challenged. He sputters, but knows that once I command something out loud, there is a little room for further argument.

"Please leave."

"It's my bed, Sasuke."

"Minato." He glares up at me trying to be firm and intimidating. All 112 plus pounds of him remind me of a pissed off kitten. I snort despite my better judgement and rise up from the bed.

"Fine, brat, I'm going. And so are you." I concede, amusement coloring my tone.

He turns his back dramatically and faces the window. I can't help but roll my eyes as I leave the room. There is an extra throw on the back of the couch that smells like boy feet but is better than nothing. I settle down on the plush cushions where it is only slightly more comfortable than Sasuke's twin bed. The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall lulls me to sleep quickly.


	6. Chapter 6

**If These Walls Could Talk**

 _Chapter 6_

* * *

Pretending to be asleep is not as easy as it may seem when your son has the senses of a fox. However, I wouldn't have made it to Hokage if I couldn't control my breathing so well that you'd have to double-take to see if I was just dead.

"This didn't happen, okay? Naruto. I'm serious. At least around everyone else for now," a familiar, lilting voice murmurs as she passes my _sleeping_ form on the couch.

"I think you sneaking into my room in the dead of the morning, then sleeping with me classifies as something happening," Naruto shoots back playfully. Where did he learn this suave? From me? Doubtful.

I hear the sharp slap of her hand coming down on his arm, followed by hushed giggling.

"Shh! You're going to wake your dad. We'll talk later." I hear the soft sound of her lips against his followed by more hushed tittering. The door closes so quietly that he would have gotten away with the whole charade if gravity hadn't picked that exact moment to exact revenge on my clumsy boy. He crashes into the wall and the coatrack near the door.

I make a big show of yawning loudly and stretching my arms above my head at the sudden startle. Naruto falls for my tricks because when I crack open my eyes, he is grinning broadly, cheeks slightly tinged pink.

"Good morning, Dad!"

"Impressive hickey," I reply, leaning forward and mussing his hair. The smile immediately falls off his face, and he glances nervously in the direction of the back hallway.

"Don't tell Sasuke, please! I'm worried he'll be upset to find out Sakura doesn't crush on him anymore."

I stifle a snort of amusement. Can my kid be any more oblivious? Sasuke hasn't shown any romantic interest in their pink-haired friend – then or now.

"I don't think that'll be a problem. What will be a problem is you if you even think about sneaking her back in here when I'm not aware. Bedroom door stays open, no under the covers, and so help me if you don't leave room for Jesus."

My face succeeds in scaring him a little because he gulps audibly and pales. "Y-yes, sir." He scampers quickly back to his room. I follow him with purpose, which causes him to scamper faster. I chuckle beneath my breath as he darts through his open doorway to safety.

God help me if he's stupid and forgets protection.

The first rays of sunlight filter through my open blinds, causing the dust motes to dance through the air. Sasuke is sprawled across the bed with the covers kicked down around his feet. His eyelashes flutter softly against his cheek in his sleep. He looks peaceful.

Maybe I'm doing the best I can.

I miss Kushina. She would know what to do; she always had a gift with children. Maybe Sasuke wouldn't be in the dark place that he's in now. There are days when I feel so adrift without her. When her sleeping form isn't next to me when I wake up in the morning, it puts me in a funk for the rest of the day.

I try to push her from my mind. It's time that I'm more focused on my sons—on ensuring they are being provided for in the best way I know. It doesn't help to reminisce on a ghost as much as I still love and miss her. I sit on the edge of the bed, stealing solace from the sound of Sasuke's deep breathing.

The minutes tick by until I hear a low whine behind me. The bed shifts as he stretches his toes to the footboard and arches. Watching Sasuke wake up in the morning is a lot like watching an overly-pampered house cat wake up from a long nap in a sun-filled window.

I cut my eyes back at him to see his dark brows knitted together over his inky-black eyes. So grumpy in the morning. He didn't learn that from me.

"I hate that. You watching me."

I chuckle. "Well, I'm your dad. There's not a lot I'm going to do that you won't hate. Up and at 'em. We have things to do and people to see."

He groans dramatically in only the way that teenagers can but finishes kicking the blanket of his feet. "Are you still making me go talk to someone?" he questions, almost wistful.

"You bet your ass."

He groans louder and rolls his eyes. Seriously. They're going to get stuck like that.

* * *

The next two weeks pass uneventfully. Sasuke is seeing a local therapist faithfully once a week, and I start to notice a change in him. He seems to walk a little lighter with his shoulders back and his head lifted. The tenuous peace is broken by the awkward confession from Naruto to Sasuke in my office about his "secret affair."

Sasuke blows it off with a shrug and a noncommittal noise like he does most things and says he's headed to the hot springs. He convinces Naruto, but the slight shuffle of his feet out my door lets me know something is not sitting right with him.

I shoo Naruto out of my office with the excuse of a bathroom emergency. He wrinkles his nose, gags, and doesn't have to be told twice. I shove the bridge construction documents I had been reviewing into my desk and scramble out the window of the Hokage tower. Sasuke could be across town by now before I catch up with him. The weather is sweltering, and I can't imagine what the springs are like—he'll roast alive in there.

Thankfully, he's not at the springs. In fact, he's not anywhere, and I begin to grow frantic.

I wouldn't have guessed the news of Naruto and Sakura would have affected him this hard; I always believed he never liked her beyond friendship to start with. I ask around town and discover that he wandered up into the mountains bordering Konoha about twenty minutes earlier.

It's cooler at these altitudes. There's a natural brook close to me punctuated by the twittering cacophony of the birds in the trees above. Pushing through the undergrowth, I step into a small clearing in the direction of the brook and spot him. He sits on a large boulder at the water's edge and dips his bare feet into the water.

I shrink back into the trees. This is stupid. Following him.

He stares at his feet a little while longer before pushing off and plunging into the deep water. The forest around us provides a natural enclosure cut off from the rest of the world. It's so remote that I miss the small form approach the opposite edge of the bank. It's one of their friends—Hinata, I think her name is.

Sasuke is doing quick laps under the water and hasn't noticed our new guest. _Our._ I'm incredibly creeped out by myself at that moment and start to shrink back into the trees and leave when I hear the water break and his voice next.

"Took you long enough. I was about to leave."

Hinata sits on one of the flatter rocks that border the river. Sasuke has swum to the edge and is resting his arms on one close to her—familiarly close. It strikes me that I'm watching something intensely personal between my son and this girl.

"Hey," she states, a shy smile spreading across her lips. She must catch an expression I can't see on Sasuke's face with his back to me like this. "You okay?" she questions softly.

He taps his fingers against the hard stone beneath and shifts his weight. Her concern unsettles him. "Truthfully, Hinata? I'm not. I mean, I didn't like Sakura…at least, not in the way she wanted me to when we were kids, but…she's been there for so long." He pauses—I'm assuming to gauge Hinata's reaction. She nods her head, urging him to continue. "Her crush on me was one of the more stable things in my life. Now Naruto has her."

He drifts off into silence. I begin to feel even more awkward. It's clear that these two might have something between them, but Sasuke had to go and mess it up by half-ass admitting that he may have liked Sakura all along. Hinata, bless her, leans forward a little bit more and catches his chin with her hand which forces Sasuke to look up at her.

"Pretty pathetic, huh?"

Hinata's fingers slide around to cup his cheek, and she gently presses her lips against his. As much as I know I should not be the voyeur here between two almost-adults, I can't hope but wish that her simple kiss washes away all the hurt and rottenness that has built up in the poor boy for eight long years.

Scarlet paints her face as she pulls back, her heavy bangs hiding the embarrassment and nervousness in her eyes. "Come out of the water; you're ruining your clothes." She extends a hand to help him, and he gently grasps her wrist.

With a shriek, Hinata tumbles forward into the deep pool. She comes up, sputtering for air. Now the scarlet of her face is made up more of ire than embarrassment. She opens her mouth—to curse him, I hope—when he swims up and backs her against the edge.

I finally turn away when her arms come up to wind around his neck and begin my trek back down the wooded incline. I cross my fingers the whole way down he doesn't do something stupid. The Hyuugas will absolutely string me up over the town square if she comes up pregnant.

As I reach the road that leads into town, a smile creeps across my face and stays there. I'm not good with kids; I'll probably never be any time soon. I learn my mistakes so slowly that by the time I figure it all out, I've already repeated it once or twice over. I never expected it to be easy, even when it was Kushina by my side.

Most people say that a person's home says a lot more about them than anything else they own. If my walls could talk, they would be saying it's not over yet.


End file.
